


Morning After

by wardaddy



Category: South Park
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, M/M, Morning After, Regrets, for riggy, lol sorry, stan's an alcoholic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardaddy/pseuds/wardaddy
Summary: Stan wakes up, and Kenny is in his bed. Slowly, he starts to piece the picture together. They're probably 17/16 here. Warning for mentions of alcoholism.





	Morning After

Blue light cascades over his eyes, and he flutters his eyes open to investigate its source. When he has a moment to orient himself, he guesses it's probably early morning, maybe five. Judging by the pounding headache and spots in his vision, he's hungover. Stan groans out loud, looking around for a moment. The early morning light casts itself in indigos in the corners of his room, sweeping in ceruleans, and spots of light blue. It'd be pretty if it wasn't so painful.

Deciding against using the restroom, Stan turns on his side and flings an arm over his pillow- which is surprisingly hard. He closes his eyes for a moment, ready to rest, when he feels his pillow move, almost as though it's breathing. Stan's eyes shoot back open, and he looks at the thing he's slung his arm over. There's blond hair from under the blanket, and he stares, absolutely dumbfounded by this discovery.

He reaches under the blanket to touch the thing, and it's sweating. It's warm, and very clearly not a pillow. He sits up, bolted upright as he looks down at the sleeping figure. With another shock- the final of the morning- he notices that he, too, is undresssed from head to toe. The panic creeps in and he finally startles, and shouts, waking up the figure beside him.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Kenny says, groggily. He turns over, just about halfway, looking at him with sleep still thick in his voice. His eyes are mostly closed, but Stan can still tell it's a glare.

Stan can't think of a good answer. For a minute he stutters, trying to think of the right thing to say. All he can manage is, "why are you in my bed?"

Kenny grins sleepily and waves him off, turning back over. "That's a stupid question, man, you already know why I'm here. Be quiet, I've got a hangover."

Stan had been ignoring his own migraine, which is now all the more apparent. He reaches for the blanket to cover himself, looking over his room while he did. On the floor, which was a mess of school papers and football clothes to begin with, now has two other neat piles of clothes, both by his bed. One is clearly his own, so far as he can tell. The other seems to belong to Kenny, which further confuses Stan. What the fuck happened last night? He looks at his sheets, hoping he can avoid the inevitable: come stains, which don't initially appear to be in sight, to his relief.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed deeply in thought. He doesn't make any more commentary on the situation aloud, but he is attempting to piece together a time table for what happened between them last night. As far as he can tell, they were both plastered, and he does sort of remember driving home, but beyond that, he thinks it may as well have been wiped out of his memory. Unless...

Oh.

\------  
Kenny is giggling with Stan while they pull into his driveway, rather sloppily. Stan, ever the graceful driver, insisted he wasn't too drunk to drive home. A mailbox later, he was home, sloppily parking in his spot. When the car was finally turned off, he looked at the steering wheel, almost wistfully, as if he wished he were still driving. Kenny reaches over the median of the car hopefully, putting his hand on Stan's knee, to which Stan jerks his head up to look at him.

"Dude," he says, then laughs. It's clear he's drunk, but he understands the physical cue well enough. Kenny's hand tightens on his jeans, and he shrugs in response to the shock.

"Tonight's a good night for it, right?" He tries not to sound too hopeful. They weren't an item, but Stan was Kenny's for the time being. A straight boy who didn't know how gay he was was perfect opportunity for Kenny.

"I thought we said the other night was the last time," Stan says, though he doesn't sound like he intends on keeping that promise, either. His voice has dropped, maybe an octave lower, but Kenny thinks he might just be drunk enough to think that.

"Yeah, we did. We don't have to-"

"No, I want to."

They let the silence between them fill the air, their own heartbeats the loudest sound in the car. Inside Stan's house is dark, Sharon having left for a weekend trip with her new boyfriend. Randy moved out a while ago.

Stan takes a deep breath and leans over the median, kissing Kenny with slightly chapped lips. Kenny laps at them immediately, licking his way into Stan's mouth with maybe too much enthusiasm. These nights always started the same- kissing in his car, maybe a little too long, and then moving to the bedroom. The night was always the best part, and the morning the worst. Stan's inhibitions were finely settled in the morning, making him hyperaware of their activities. Right now, Kenny doesn't care, and instead focuses on putting both hands on Stan's face so he can have better control, so he can deepen their kiss. Stan groans into it, already hard, already eager.

Kenny pulls away from his mouth to kiss his jaw and down his neck, while Stan only breathes hard, his eyes closing as he lets himself melt into the feeling. Kenny loves it, loves how needy and quiet he gets when he plays with him just right. Stan's not hard to arouse, and he's not hard to handle, but Kenny loves it all the same, the way he wheezes a little when he's worked up, how he turns his head to give him better access to his neck. He's predictable, but Kenny likes that about him.

Stan reaches over with clumsy hands to palm at Kenny's tented pants, brows furrowing when he feels Kenny suck a mark into his neck. Kenny would never dare in any other circumstances, but he's too out of it to care what Stan will say in the morning. Stan groans again when he feels Kenny's hips move into his hand, feeling like he had some semblance of control, like he knew what he was doing. Kenny kisses his Adam's apple, and then licks it, laughing when Stan makes a noise of protest. He pulls away and looks at him, a slight furrow of his own brow when Stan keeps rubbing him through his pants. If he doesn't stop doing that, he might come.

"Okay, let's go inside, right? It's gonna be hard to do anything in the car."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Stan says, though it's clear he's bothered by having to move locations. When he opens his door and steps onto the gravel, he forgets about the keys in the car and shuts the door with them still on the seat. The house itself is unlocked, as they had been here before they decideded to go to one of Clyde's house parties, forgetting to shut off the lights as they went. Sharon will be pissed, but Stan has no ability to consider this as he opens the door hastily. As soon as they're inside, Stan pulls Kenny close again, a little more aggressive this time as he kisses him, biting his lip while trying to push his coat off. Kenny moans into his mouth, laughing at how hungry it sounds. Sometimes he forgets how much he wants this, how much he needs this shit.

Stan attempts to walk backwards towards his stairs, not wanting to break their kiss. It's unsuccessful, and he stumbles several times before he finally lands on the carpeted stairs with another laugh. He's drunker than he thought he was, and he takes a moment to adjust himself, his erection pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans. Kenny watches him affectionately, but still impatiently pulls on his hand to urge him up so they can finally make it to his bedroom.

They don't neck much on the stairs, mostly for the sake of safety: Kenny doesn't want to break his neck on the stairs, and just the same, he doesn't want Stan to. When they're in his room, Kenny shuts the door hard and drops to his knees quickly, making quick work of Stan's pants. Stan himself is leaning against his dresser, holding onto the edge of it with white knuckles. Kenny's mouth is nowhere near him now, but he can feel it, can remember the sensations from previous times. He closes his eyes, letting himself submit to it as Kenny takes his cock into his mouth, sucking gently, and then harder. Stan quickly forms a fist with the other hand, biting on it hard when he feels his tongue slide along the underside of his dick. He breathes out through his nose sharply, brows in a deep furrow now.

Kenny knows Stan's limitations, but he's also well aware of his own. He's painfully hard now, his own erection begging to be touched. As frequently as he fucks, he does like to consider himself a selfless lover, and easily takes Stan down his throat, though Stan's size is quite initimidating, and he is a little thick. Stan wails when he feels the back of Kenny's through, and it takes far too much effort to prevent himself from fucking his mouth, though his hips do move involuntarily into the heat. Kenny gags for just a second, and then pulls off of him, looking at him with slight irritation. Was he trying to kill him?

"Alright, dude. I wanna ride you," he says, lowly, grinning up at him from his knees.

Stan's knees almost buck and he nearly blows his load. He just nods, stepping out of his jeans to sit on his bed without tripping. He kicks his shoes off, and pulls off his socks in a hazy manner. Every time they did this, it seemed unreal, seemed too good to be true. Stan didn't get laid nearly as much as Kenny, and was only realizing recently that he may have had attraction to men. Maybe it's just a Kenny thing, he thinks, while he pulls off his jacket and shirt. 

Kenny stops, shirtless, while he examines Stan. Stan isn't necessarily jacked, but he's built, muscles in his stomach and chest neatly carved. Stan was always that way- never too much of anything, but never too little, either. He was always the perfect medium for anything, and that may have been what made him so desirable for Kenny. He keeps looking him over, noting slightly tanned skin, his arms getting stronger seemingly everyday. Kenny was almost delirious at this point, trying to shove his pants off and wincing when the button on his pants catches over his dick. Stan laughs, shifts himself to lay down on his bed, stroking himself idly. That was another thing Kenny adored, his shamelessness when he was wasted.

Kenny shuffled another step to his bed and sat on Stan's waist, leaning down to kiss him again, licking into his mouth as he did before. This kiss is slower, though, and a little more intense. Kenny opens his eyes to look at Stan's face, and notices his are closed- trusting, almost. Kenny sighs into his mouth and reaches behind his head for the lube they stashed their previously. He pulls away to look at him, frowning now.

"Do you have any condoms?"

"Uh, no. I didn't know I was in charge of getting them," Stan slurs, frowning back at him. Kenny just shrugs and preps his fingers anyways, pushing one and then two fingers into his entrance while sighing. Stan watches in fascination, wondering how that could possibly feel good, how Kenny could possibly ever want this. He decides not to concentrate on that too much, as before he knows it, Kenny is spreading lube over his dick.

Stan makes no noise when Kenny slides down on him, his mouth simply open as he watches Kenny's figure writhe for a second, and as he adjusts to the intense discomfort pooling in his gut. Kenny's head drops, and slowly, ever so slowly, he rolls his hips, testing the feeling. When he feels it hit every part, and the screaming nerves finally adjust, he moans, loudly, to which Stan adds to that.

"Fucking, God dude," Stan hisses, unable to help himself when he pushes his hips up against Kenny. Kenny keens and rolls his hips again, trying to gain some comfort. Stan is big, too big almost, and he doesn't really feel like dealing with the screaming pain in the morning. 

After a minute or two of adjusting, Kenny is finally moving his hips against Stan, and Stan is snapping his hips back up in response to Kenny, hands grabbing his smaller hips in a bruising grip. Kenny doesn't care, he loves it. He'd dare Stan to do more if he knew Stan wasn't too fragile and sensitive for it. He laughs a little, thinking about it, and tilts his head back up. They don't last long, with Stan coming first, pulling out just in time to splatter between them, and Kenny soon after with a shout. It's then that Kenny collapses next to him, saving the cleaning for tomorrow. Stan passes out quickly, maybe from the combination of exhaust and drinking.

He really needs to stop drinking.

\-----

Stan groans and puts his hands to his face when he remembers this, and looks at Kenny exasperatedly. Was he gay? Did he suddenly have attraction to men? He doesn't remember being overly attracted to anyone, except maybe Kyle at times. Was that what this was? A test run? Stan sighs and shakes his head, finally getting out of the bed to saunter across his room and into his bathroom across the hall so he can splash water on his face. After all this time, he should figure he would end up like this.

Brushing his teeth with something like aggression, just in case, he looks at himself in the reflection. A hickey, of course. A temporary, but somehow permanent reminder that last night he fucked one of his best friends. 

Stan Marsh is a lot of things, he thinks, but he is not gay. At least, not all the way. And he's going to kill Kenny when he comes to his senses.


End file.
